


You Don't Look My Type, But I Guess You’ll Do

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [9]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Bad Sex, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: “I figure once we do it, we’ll finally know what it’s like. Get it out of our system. Then you’ll go back to just being my weird, irritating rival. And we’ll never speak of it again.”“Deal."Discord and Deimos bang.





	You Don't Look My Type, But I Guess You’ll Do

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the time gap between S5E19 "Looking Death in the Eye" and S5E20 "Livia."
> 
> Like in the original Greek myth, Aphrodite and Ares are the parents of Deimos and Phobos, even though Deimos and Ares are explicitly cousins in TV canon.
> 
> Takes place between my fanfics "[As the Dust Settles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146184)" and "[Consequence of Laughing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/560304)."

Discord hopped up onto the stone altar at the center of her unfinished temple. The building had been abandoned by its architect mid-construction, who left fleeing nearby war and famine. Its roof was in such disrepair that it let in the warm, drizzling rain. The rough surface rubbed uncomfortably against her tailbone.

Hitching up her black leather skirt, she grumbled, “Let’s get this over with.”

Drunk and bitter and shamefully curious what it would be like, the goddess had decided to have sex with Deimos, self-professed god of terror and family joke. Their first time together could only be described as bad, with fits and starts and a clumsy race to the finish line. It was an awkward encounter neither party seemed to find particularly satisfying. Pressed later for opinions, Discord would have grunted _“ugh”_ and rolled her eyes, while Deimos would rock his palm in a _“meh”_ gesture of mild dissatisfaction. Not that anyone would ever ask, because nobody would ever know. Discord would see to that.

Leading up to this, the young god’s attempt at seduction had mostly been by negging her, calling Discord any number of horrible names, using adjectives that would be flattering coming from any other god in the pantheon. She was a bitch, a skank, an arrogant harpy. But she was also the Goddess of Discord and that was the whole point. It was the persona she projected, honed and perfected into the epitome of dastardly villainy.

Deimos seemed to develop his crush after Discord pushed him off the building in Athens, and over the following months expressed his desire in a weird and off-putting manner. His latest attempt to have sex with her, threatening to tell Athena of her scheming, had been sleazy and downright offensive. But a nastier part of Discord could respect such a ballsy move, and she was pleasantly surprised he didn’t betray her in the end.

It got Discord thinking. With Ares so preoccupied with Xena’s death, what allies on Olympus did she have left? All signs pointed in a certain idiot’s direction.

But Deimos…Deimos made it difficult.

 

* * *

 

_“Deimos!”_

Heavy heeled boots loudly click-clacking across the floor, Discord stormed into a small, modest stone temple dedicated to Ares. It was a sacred space where the young God of Terror had no business loitering, though Ares seemed unaware and uninterested, holed up in his primary residence the Halls of War. It had been weeks and he still mourned Xena, a human woman whose child was prophesied to end the Olympians’ reign. She had been a hero, a troublemaker, potential god-killer and object of Discord’s fierce jealousy. Someone fun to mess with, but emotionally draining to hate. That black spot grew larger within Discord over the years, her rivalry with the warrior becoming less entertaining the more Ares loved her.

The aggravation she felt watching Ares stagnate and turn into one of his own damn statues had begun to reach its peak. She tried to ignore him, which should have been easy. There were plenty of things to do that didn’t involve him.

These thoughts crossed her mind as she passed a large mural depicting Ares in the heat of battle. Discord dismissed them to focus on the god lounging on a couch by the offering table, eating mortal food and drinking a jug of wine. His teeth and lips were stained red, drops of liquid dribbling down his chin. Human alcohol wouldn’t get him drunk, but he still looked thoroughly pleased with himself, smirking like a child who has poached his father’s private stash, which he was in fact doing.

 ** _“_** _Deimos!”_ she repeated, bellowing loudly as she could, which could shake the walls if she wanted. But the goddess stuck to her normal tones, voice rising with hysterical rage.

“You foul, slimy, brown streak of waste! That town was on the brink of tearing itself apart, and your guys just show up today and _kill_ everyone? Weeks of prep and planning wasted. My project gone up in smoke! Literally. They set half the place on fire.”

Deimos abruptly stopped drinking and sat up straight, placing the wine jug on the floor. He gave her a casual shrug.

“You were taking too long.”

Discord quickly closed the distance between them to pick up the wine jug and hold it above his head, threatening to pour its contents all over his blond, spiky hair.

“It wasn’t your call!”

Deimos stood up and Discord lowered the jug, taking a step back. He stood a head taller and could physically overpower her unless they battled with magic. Discord preferred to fight with words, then with swords, and with her powers as last resort. But the young god posed no real threat to her, and a snap of Discord’s fingers could annihilate him, or at the very least annihilate his atrocious, oxblood leather outfit. (All tassels and ruffles, gaudy silver accessories and knee-length shorts, every detail was a contradiction. He would be taken more seriously in basic black, provided he didn’t speak.)

“What’s the point,” he asked, “of messing around for months gently nudging humans into fighting when you can destroy ‘em all in one afternoon?”

He flicked his fingers daintily, miming “gentle nudges.” The word “destroy” was accompanied by him hammering a fist into his other palm.

“You just answered your own dumb question,” Discord replied, “you hyena-throated buffoon. For _fun._ Duh!”

“I get it, I do,” he said, not getting it at all. “I relish pushing humans into self-destructing just as much as you do.”

Discord turned her back to him, arms crossed. She sensed him slowly approach, his hands cautiously hovering just above her shoulders. In her ear, he said, “Your way is just really, really _boring_.”

Discord turned and growled, “Stay out of my territory and out of my way. Or you’re in for some self-destruction of your own.”

The goddess raised one arm to snap her fingers and teleport, but he grabbed her wrist and said, “Wait just a second.” Discord frowned, yanking her hand from his grasp.

“From now on,” he said. “I’ll stay out of your territory. I promise.” He put one hand over his heart.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.

Discord noticed one hand remained behind his back. She stepped around him, to see what he was doing. His fingers were crossed.

“Look,” he said, “fighting for territory is what war gods _do_ , okay?”

“No, it’s not okay!”

Deimos crossed his arms. “I’m not apologizing for killing those villagers.”

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry, just don’t do it again. Is that clear?”

After a brief stare-down, Deimos looked away first. With a frown, he replied, “Crystal.”

Discord smiled. “Glad we cleared that up.”

This time he didn’t stop her from fading into purple mist.

 

* * *

 

Discord quickly moved on from the incident, distracting herself with minor mischief, but another week passed and nothing really changed. She still got the silent treatment from Ares.

Other gods were not so quiet.

**_“_ ** _Discord, you pig-faced harpy!”_

The goddess was hiding out in her own abandoned temple this time, shocked to see Deimos materialize in the center of her shrine. She thought the place had been concealed better. Ripped tapestries half-hung from damp stone walls, light rain falling through the hole in the roof. She had lit some sconces to brighten the darkened corners, but cloudy daylight provided most of the sanctuary’s illumination. Discord sat on a bench in a dry alcove off to the side, drinking Dionysus’ wine, the one drink that could truly intoxicate a god.

“What now?” she asked, annoyed by his intrusion.

“You did something to my followers.”

“All two of them?” she asked with an amused smile. The goddess chuckled and took another swig of wine.

“There’s more than _two_ ,” Deimos insisted. “And you said something that got them fighting with each other. They started debating whether or not I was a real god.”

“That sure sounds familiar. It wasn’t Pythagoras, by any chance?”

“I dunno, was it?” he replied sarcastically.

“They were only whispers, injecting a little doubt in their heads. Rumors you’re not a full god. That maybe you’re just some fool with magic.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Ha! That’s what they said!”

Stepping into her space and glaring down at her, Deimos roughly pulled the bottle from her hands and took a swig. He coughed and sputtered.

“Nyx! What in Tartarus are you drinking?”

Discord unsteadily rose to her feet and reached for the bottle.

“I stole it from Dionysus’ stash. It’s his strongest.”

Deimos handed it back and Discord took another long pull. Calm for the moment, Deimos seemed to forget her prank and smacked his lips, tongue darting out to taste the drops he’d spilled.

 _We should start drinking from actual cups,_ Discord thought, eyes drawn to his flicking tongue.

Discord sat back down, and Deimos sat on the bench beside her. They passed the bottle back and forth, and this felt familiar too.

After a pause, Deimos asked, “Can I ask why you’re getting so wasted?”

Discord leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. After another brief pause, he said, “Ohh, this is about Ares.”

“Mm.”

“Is that a yes?”

Discord didn’t answer.

“He’s still ignoring you?”

She opened her eyes and snapped, “What’s it to you?”

“Just curious,” Deimos said. “Usually you take your frustration out on the humans. Or small animals.”

Discord sighed and shook her head.

“What’re you doing here, Deimos? Are ya here to get back at me, or what? Get your cronies to believe again? Stop being such a loser and go convince ‘em yourself.”

The fear god's nose scrunched in petulant anger.

“Fuck off,” Discord said, slumping against the wall. Deimos snatched the bottle from her hand and threw it across the room. It crashed open, wine spilling over the floor.

“What did you do that for?” she asked.

“Get up and quit acting so pathetic. What happened to scheming? Messing with the council, harassing Hercules, convincing an entire town to hang its mayor for crimes he didn’t commit? You could even go back to being Goddess of Retribution.”

Breezing past his first question, Discord said, “Hera gave me those assignments, and she’s dead.” More softly, she added, “I still can’t believe she’s dead.”

Deimos tapped his fingers on the bench and pursed his lips, thinking hard.

“What can we do that’ll get you to stop wallowing in self-pity?”

An idea crossed Discord’s mind. A bad, stupid, disgusting idea that had been brewing in her mind for weeks. She brushed her hand against his, where it rested on the bench between them, inching her body just a bit closer so their shoulders touched.

 _What in Tartarus am I doing?_ she thought.

He looked down at their hands, body tensing slightly, then their eyes met.

When he wasn’t pulling a weird face or cackling like a hyena, Deimos was somewhat handsome. Strife had been handsome too, and the wrongness of sex with his doppelganger cousin made her stomach do a flip. It was discomfiting how much he looked like Strife, despite the different body language and different laugh. Deimos was as camp as a row full of tents, flamboyant and attention-drawing. He was also shrill and a lot more annoying to Discord than Strife had ever been. But he was gazing at her now with those same ice-blue eyes.

Most days she had forgotten she and Strife were related. He was just some joker of a partner in crime who she had almost kissed while drunk on Dionysus’ wine. Just like this joker, just like right now. Except this god wasn’t full of her same self-loathing and grief, he was just ready to bone anything that moved. Any human, god, demi-god, or magical creature of any and every gender. Whoever would allow him into their bed.

Or into their crumbling temple. Discord took his hand and stood up.

“Come on,” she said, gently tugging him towards the altar. The rain had turned into a fine mist.

Deimos followed obediently, not that he had much choice with her hand gripping his own. She let go and hopped up on the altar. The fear god grinned widely, standing between her open legs. His hips were just the right height.

In case it wasn’t obvious, she said, “I think we should have sex.”

Deimos placed his hands on her hips and eased his body closer, grinning even wider. She wished he’d stop that. He was better looking with a more serious expression. Yeah, she was going keep her eyes closed for this.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” he said with a playful growl.

Discord cleared her throat. She hadn’t consented to his touch yet, but he was already running his hands up the sides of her torso. He leaned in close, breath hot against her ear, and she was already getting flustered. Arousal curled in her belly. This was supposed to be just an experiment, an attempt to forget Ares, a drunk distraction from her chaotic life.

“I figure once we do it,” she explained, “we’ll finally know what it’s like. Get it out of our system. Then you’ll go back to just being my weird, irritating cousin.” She added in a threatening tone, “And we’ll never speak of it again.”

“Deal,” he said, leaning in close enough to kiss her, but waiting for her move.

Discord shut her eyes tight and acted quickly, before she could change her mind. She grasped the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. It felt odd at first, but it helped his lips tasted like Dionysus’ wine. The intoxicating flavor opened her mouth wider, allowing his probing tongue between her lips.

His hands came up to cup her face, silver rings scratching her cheek. Discord brushed her fingers over each of his own, making each metal loop disappear. He let out an annoyed huff and muttered “Hey!” in protest, as Discord made each piece of jewelry vanish. Sucking on his index finger made him gasp and say nothing more about undressing him piece by jagged piece.

Deimos wrapped his arms around her tightly and gave her neck messy open-mouthed kisses. Discord tried to wordlessly gesture that she preferred light nibbles on her collarbone, but there wasn’t much point in stopping Deimos from passionately slobbering over every bare patch of skin he could access. His fingers grasped fruitlessly at the back of her bodice, as if the black leather wasn’t cinched tight. It would take forever for them to undress completely without magic, so the two gods awkwardly tongued each other’s mouths while rubbing their palms all over each other’s clothed bodies.

Deimos stopped kissing her, cheeks flush with arousal, heavily panting like a human.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

Discord nodded, but he seemed to want more enthusiastic consent.

“Stop wasting time and fuck me,” she said. Hitching up her skirt, she grumbled, “Let’s get this over with.”

She scooted forward a bit to give him better access, then lay back on the altar with her open legs dangling off the edge.

With a small wave of his hand the god’s shorts were gone. Discord stared up at the ceiling, waiting, the words _“This is a bad, no good, terrible idea”_ repeating in her head. It was too late to back out now. He was lifting her skirt and entering her with no preparation, stretching her out and filling her up. Discord winced.

 _If Ares found out, would this make him jealous?_ she wondered.

Deimos lifted her legs higher and she wrapped them around his waist to make it easier for him to thrust. His movements were erratic and uncertain, as though he were inexperienced at sex. _Oh no,_ she thought. _I may be his first lay in a century!_

“How’s that?” he asked, speeding up his thrusts into a steadier rhythm.

“Keep doing that,” she said. “Harder. I’m not made of glass.”

He complied, squeezing her thighs with his fingers and thrusting more roughly. Then he slowed down again, his grip on her raised legs faltering. Discord let out a frustrated noise.

“Keep going!”

With a grunt, he resumed thrusting, as awkward and unsure as he was at the start. After a while, he put her legs down, pulling out.

“Can we try something else?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Discord said in annoyance, “Like what?”

“Like do it from behind, with you bent over the altar?”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. Discord rolled her eyes.

“Fine, that works too,” she grumbled, hopping down off the altar and turning around. She bent over and braced herself on each forearm, head bowed and grey stone her only view. It wasn’t like this position couldn’t be pleasurable, it was just killing her libido to switch mid-fuck.

Deimos lifted her skirt and she let him adjust her hips into position. He reached down between her legs and Discord felt warm fingertips brush her clit. He briskly rubbed it in circles to get her wetter, a courtesy he hadn’t shown her earlier. Just as it was getting good, he withdrew his touch and made a few more adjustments, nudging her ankles further apart with his foot.

It was easier for him this time, and Discord was rocked forward with each hard thrust, her gaze fixed on the stones in front of her. His grunts grew louder and more embarrassing, and she was almost ashamed of her own guttural moans, then reminded herself it was involuntary, nothing more. _Anybody_ could be fucking her, and it would elicit the same reaction. Reassured by the thought, Discord tried to relax and let herself climax, but just as she was about to…

He didn’t warn her, he just shuddered and came.

Deimos slowed and stopped. He didn’t apologize, just pulled out and smoothed down her skirt. Discord whirled around to glare at him.

His satisfied, post-coital smile fell at the sight of her angry expression. She knew he didn’t really owe her an apology. She’d have pulled the same stunt had she been on top and come first, because among the war gods reciprocation was appreciated but not compulsory. It pissed her off regardless.

“Oh don’t pout,” Deimos said. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He waved his hand and was once again completely dressed, shorts back along with those sharp, silver rings. He wouldn’t be getting her off with those hands.  

“You’re such an asshole,” Discord said.

His lip quirked at the insult, taking it as a compliment. The god's expression brightened, and he looked pleased with himself, giving her a smug grin. It hadn’t been the best sex for him either, basic and fleeting, but he clearly delighted in the conquest, in finally getting Discord to give in.

“Likewise,” he said, winking, though it was more like a blink. “Look, this was interesting, but I gotta go. I’ll see you later, babe.”

“I hate you,” Discord replied, though she said it flatly and didn’t really mean it. Her curiosity had been satisfied. Deimos really was as bad at sex as she imagined.

He stuck his tongue out, blowing her a raspberry before turning into a green bubble and vanishing from sight.

Discord leaned against the altar, stunned by what had just happened. Barely any time had passed. The sex lasted less than five minutes, and while she should have felt disgusted and ashamed to have let the foolish god fuck her, her strongest feeling was disappointment. She had been close, very close. The pulse of desire still throbbed within her and craved release. Her hand strayed down, under her skirt and between her legs. She was alone in the dark temple and nobody would know. Nobody could.

Discord closed her eyes and recalled that building climax, curling her fingers inside best she could at such an awkward angle, pressing hard. She gasped and repeated the motion, imagining Deimos was still fucking her.

If Deimos had waited just a little longer, her cunt would be contracting around his cock right now instead of between clenched thighs.

Discord climaxed with a whimper, her loud moans mostly for show, and after taking some deep optional breaths, her racing heart slowed, and she came down from the high. The dirty shame she’d been missing followed, reality hitting her. She’d fucked Deimos. What in Tartarus had she been thinking?

The goddess smoothed down her skirt, adjusted her leather corset, and considered what to do next. She had some clue what not to repeat.

“I’m never drinking again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Discord makes an offhand comment about Pythagoras. In S1E39 of Young Hercules, "The Skeptic," a character by that name refuses to believe Strife is a god. In her narration, she mentions drinking with Deimos feels familiar, and references getting drunk with Strife in my fic "[Sinking is All I Had Planned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/559570)."
> 
> Title is a lyric from Third Rate Romance by Sammy Kershaw.


End file.
